


And All Was For An Apple

by Lindewen



Series: The Apple Taken Was [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Christmas Fluff, Christmas Shopping, Classical Music, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Fluff, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Holding Hands, Kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, No Sex, No Smut, Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21813745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindewen/pseuds/Lindewen
Summary: The second winter after the Apocalypse didn't happen, Crowley and Aziraphale are out for some sightseeing and Christmas shopping along the south coast, simply because they can. But Crowley also has a secret errand to run--and, as it turns out, he can't always balance very well in his human form...
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Apple Taken Was [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697926
Comments: 24
Kudos: 152
Collections: Aziraphale's Library Festive Fic Recs





	And All Was For An Apple

**Author's Note:**

> Helping backstage recently at a choir concert that included selections from Benjamin Britten's _A Ceremony of Carols,_ I started wondering what my current favorite literary portrayal of the Serpent of Eden thought about the text of the second-to-last movement, "Deo Gracias." When I sat down to find out, he...took the story in a very, very different direction than I'd expected him to!
> 
> Title is from the first verse of "Deo Gracias." In the interest of legibility, I've partially updated the spelling in direct quotes from the poetic texts.

(Chichester, a year and four months after the Apocalypse didn't happen)

The Bentley screeched to a halt in front of the Chichester Cathedral, crunching a little on the salt laid down against the forecasted snow. In the passenger seat, Aziraphale smoothed down his waistcoat, then consulted his pocket watch. “Right, my dear. It’s 9:00. I’ll spend the morning touring the cathedral while you’re at the planetarium, and then we’ll meet up for lunch and Christmas shopping, followed by a quick dinner and that Christmas pops concert.”

Crowley nodded, then smiled at the angel. “Yep. That’s the plan. I’ll see you around noon, then?” When Aziraphale nodded he leaned in for a quick kiss, then squeezed the other’s hand and unlocked the car door for him. “Have a good time looking at the church, love.”

“You too, sweetheart. Enjoy the astronomy show.”

They’d driven down to Chichester from London, eager to get out of the city for the day simply because they could. Aziraphale had wanted to do some Christmas shopping for all their new human friends from the averted Armageddon, and of course Crowley had wanted to find something to post to Warlock. To add to that appeal was the famous art of Chichester Cathedral, which drew Aziraphale like a magnet, while meanwhile the demon had wanted to see the new star show at the South Downs Planetarium—but not enough to actually miracle it to change its time from 7:30 p.m. to 10:00 a.m. as he’d told Aziraphale he’d done. In actual fact, he planned to spend the time shopping for a Christmas present for a certain angel without said angel’s knowledge.

There were plenty of antique shops in Chichester, and it was to them that the demon went first. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he knew he would know it when he saw it: something tasteful, classy, and tried-and-true. He prowled from shop to shop, looming menacingly over each case in turn with a snarl on his lips until each shopkeeper backed off and stopped bothering him. This absolutely wasn’t nerves—no, not at all. He was definitely not quivering with terror inside despite knowing to the very depths of his soul that this was what he wanted. Not him.

At last, at 11:49 a.m. when Crowley’s ill humor had mounted approximately to Heaven and he was just about to give up, he found exactly what he was looking for. His heart gave a tug, and he found his lips curving up into a smile: yes, this would be just what his angel would like. This one, right here. But no sooner had he decided than the reality of it crashed in on him again: _Oh Somebody, only our second proper Christmas together, and this is what I go for—I’m bloody likely to be screwing it all up, aren’t I? Going too fast! Well. Nothing else for it but to find out._

He swallowed his fear and gestured to the shopkeeper, who upon his entrance had retreated to the back of the store to fuss with a display of old dolls. “Oi! You! I want to buy this thing.”

The shopkeeper shot him a terrified look and returned to the display of dolls, as if ignoring him would make him go away, but in actuality it only succeeded in making the demon advance on him across the shop until the man was squeaking in fright.

Crowley stopped and took a deep breath. “All right. Let’s try this again.” He ran his fingers through his red mane, took another breath, and forced some courtesy into his tone. Unfortunately it came out as sarcasm instead, but at least, he reflected, he didn’t appear furious anymore. “’Scuse me sir, I’d like to buy this—" he gestured at the case—“rather than shoplifting it, but I’m already late for my lunch date and I need you to come over here now so I can give you my money.”

Slowly, trembling, the man unbent from over the doll display and inched back across the shop. When he arrived at Crowley’s side, he took one look at the item to which the demon was pointing and a grin blossomed across his features. He unlocked the case and pulled out the item Crowley was pointing to. “Ah, that one. Been here since before I owned the place, that one has; it’s certainly not to everyone’s taste, but I’ve always said it would be perfect for the right buyer. A Christmas present?” He slid open the cupboard under the shelf behind the counter, rummaging for a box.

Crowley felt his face flush. “Yep. For my—” he gulped—“my partner. He likes old things like this.” He felt his cheeks redden even further, but it was accompanied by the cheesy smile that always seemed to take over his face whenever it sank in anew that not only were he and Aziraphale openly _together,_ but that he could discuss this fact in front of other people.

“If this is the type of Christmas present it looks like, your partner’s a lucky fellow. Been together a long time, the two of you?” He closed the cupboard empty-handed and slid open the one next to it, full of another jumble of boxes.

“Forever, yeah. Officially just a year and four months, but unofficially it’s been a lot longer.” He paused. “Family problems. Long story.”

“Ah. I know how that goes. My niece and her girlfriend came to live with my wife and me for a few months, back when they were still students, after my brother-in-law kicked her out. Shame, that kind of attitude, especially in this day and age.” At last the shopkeeper emerged with the correct type of box, and began packaging up the item.

The demon nodded and glanced at his watch. “Actually, 'm quite late to meet him for lunch. Is this enough? Keep the change.” He snapped his fingers surreptitiously, then shoved the resulting wad of cash in the man’s hand. The demon snatched the box out of his other hand, ignored the squeak of surprise and gratitude that emanated from him, and hurried out of the shop, stowing the box in his coat pocket as he went.

The angel was humming happily when Crowley arrived at the cafe.

“Hello, darling. How was the planetarium show?” Aziraphale beamed at him, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek as he sat down.

The demon gulped. _That’s right. I told him I was at the planetarium show. Right. Stars. Erm…_ He attempted to school his face into something like enthusiasm and failed spectacularly. “Oh, it was—” he waved a hand behind him, searching for words. “It was great. Just fantastic. Had a great time. How was the church?”

The angel raised one eyebrow. “The cathedral was lovely. Of course, I enjoyed the stained glass in the south transept and the altar tapestry, but there were particular hidden gems of statuary in the north transept and the chapels as well. Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Hmm? Nothing. Show was, er, about the Star of Bethlehem, y’know? Had been one of my stars until those wankers in your Home Office supernovaed it about two million years too soon just to make their point. Shouldn’t have gone to the show, probably.”

“Ah, all right then.” Aziraphale still looked skeptical, but he nodded and waved to get the waiter’s attention, ready to order lunch.

Over the course of a leisurely 90 minutes of enjoying a very good red wine and stealing the occasional bite of the angel’s steak and kidney pie and chocolate lava cake, Crowley felt himself gradually relaxing. By the time they miracled payment onto the table and rose to leave, the demon was nearly back to equilibrium. He smiled to himself as he took Aziraphale’s arm and strolled down the pavement with him under the gray December sky. _After all, it’s nearly a week and a half until Christmas Day. Yards of time for me to decide how I’m doing this._

They’d lunched downtown, and there were plenty of Christmas shopping possibilities well within walking distance. On some blocks they simply strolled along looking at window displays—the angel oohing and aaahing while the demon made fun of the more ridiculous items—and on others they ducked in and out of doorways, looking at apparel, at books, and at gift items. Aziraphale bought a scarf for Anathema, a book for Newt, and a set of nail vinyls for Madame Tracy. Crowley spent a fair bit of time playing on his phone waiting for the angel to make up his mind in various shops, but he also stopped into an estate agent’s when the angel wasn’t looking and took a business card, then bought a word puzzle collection for Warlock, a stack of comic books for Adam, and a box of chocolates for Aziraphale. They shared the latter as they continued down the street. The demon listened to the angel chatter on about his gift ideas and put in a word or two of his own here and there, allowing the idle conversation to tamp down his nerves even as his free hand toyed with the box in his jacket pocket. _Plenty of time._

The remaining light was beginning to fade as they finished their purchases, and at last they turned a corner onto a side street to take a shortcut back to the Bentley and their dinner reservations. Crowley had finally relaxed fully, and the two of them were walking arm in arm again, collars turned up against the cold wind that already smelled of the snow forecasted overnight, arguing amicably about whose side had begun the tradition of Christmas caroling.

“—but really, my dear, _collecting money?_ To _make the carolers go away?_ There’s simply no possibility—”

“Steady on, angel! You know perfectly well all that money goes to charity, no matter what they say when they collect it. And it always has.”

“No it hasn’t, not if you look back at the wassailing tradition—”

“Those were the people who needed charity in the first place, though; they were so poor—WHOA!”

The next thing he knew, Crowley’s feet had shot out from under him and he found himself flat on his back in the middle of a patch of black ice beneath a drain spout.

“Oh, my dear! Are you all right?” The demon shook his head clear to find the angel, who apparently had managed to jump away from the ice, leaning gingerly back over the patch to offer a hand to Crowley. He rotated his aching ankle and nodded in satisfaction when the pain faded a bit— _just a bruise, then_ —and then accepted the hand up and was hauled upright.

“Yep, yep. ‘m just fine, angel. Let’s go.”

“Yes, of course, if you’re sure. We’ll be late. Oh! Listen!” He paused, turning toward the large building they’d stopped in front of.

The sounds of a choir—teen treble voices, unless Crowley missed his guess—came rippling out an open gymnasium door on the ground floor, swirling around them in the cold breeze. He listened, grudgingly impressed by the clarity of tone and articulation as well as by the thoughtfulness of expression.

“Candelmesse, Queen of Bliss,  
Wolcum both to more and less.  
Wolcum, Wolcum,  
Wolcum be ye that are here, Wolcum Yole,  
Wolcum all and make good cheer.  
Wolcum all another year,  
Another year,  
Wolcum Yole. Wolcum!”

“Benjamin Britten. _A Ceremony of Carols._ ” He shot a sideways glance at the angel and smirked. “D’you remember that absolutely dreadful choir we heard sing this on Warlock’s first piano recital?”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Oh, my. Yes, I certainly do. You mean the one that turned out to just be a Grade 5 music theory class with a second-year undergraduate trombonist trying to lead it? That poor group; I don’t know if I feel more sorry for the teacher or for the children! Still, this lot is much better-sounding, don’t you think? Who are they?” He squinted through the sunset at the sign in front of the building. “Ah. Just the local comprehensive high school. Well, I’m glad to hear they have such a good after-school choir; not everyplace does anymore. Come on, let’s go; we’ll be late.”

The angel tugged on the demon’s elbow and made as if to move off, but Crowley had frozen in place, frantically patting his coat pockets.

“Where is it? I’ve lost it? Oh bloody _Heaven_ , it can’t be too far away, it can’t have—"

He took off his sunglasses, the better to cast around with his gaze, still rummaging in his coat.

“Not to worry, darling. I’ll help you look for whatever it is. What does it look like? We’ll start here and fan out.”

Crowley nodded, distracted, but then all at once he processed what Aziraphale had said and shrieked. “What? NO! Angel, _you can’t see it yet!_ It’s your Christmas present!”

But Aziraphale had already trotted off and wasn’t listening to the demon’s panicked scrambling off in the other direction from the ice, on hands and knees and frantically scrabbling at the concrete. “No—no—no—I can’t have lost it—just let me find it—please—Sa—Go—Someone!”

“Crowley?” The angel’s voice was very quiet and calm. The demon froze again.

“Crowley, is this—” silence for a moment, then footsteps behind him—“is this it?”

The demon turned, still on his knees, to find Aziraphale standing behind him, hands cupped around the little box, now hanging open, and the antique ring it had until recently contained. It was a simple gold band set with a black onyx and a white moonstone nestled together in a swirl of tiny diamonds, all ever so slightly Art Deco in style—and there was no way to mistake it for anything but what it was. He sat back on his heels and tried to read the angel’s face, but there was nothing to see there except earnest curiosity. Fighting and losing against his rising terror, Crowley nodded once, his hands trembling.

“My dear—” Aziraphale stepped toward him and handed him the ring and the box. “I did actually hear you say that it was my Christmas present. Do I need to pretend for you that I never saw this, or—" and there was suddenly naked longing revealed in every line of his beautiful face—“or do you have something to say to me now?”

_Oh. Right now? Yeah, OK. Right now. Somebody, but he’s beautiful. Worth every minute of the wait. And...is it possible that he might actually say yes? Maybe? I want him for my own. Forever._

“Well, I—I was going to wait until Christmas morning so I could do it properly—with the tree and wrapping paper and Christmas carols on the radio and hot chocolate to drink while we relax in our pajamas, and of course we’d be alone instead of in the middle of a public street freezing half to death—heaven, I didn’t even want to kneel; I’m not begging you when you might say no—but here we are, and I—yes, Aziraphale, I was planning on asking you—” he swallowed and blinked, but the angel didn’t break eye contact—“asking you to—to marry me. And give you that as an engagement ring. Or save it for the wedding if you want. Whichever you’d rather; doesn’t matter to—”

The angel cut him off by dropping to his knees, nodding so fast that his curls whipped back and forth on his head, fisting both hands in the fabric of Crowley’s jacket, and fastening his mouth onto the demon’s. Crowley gasped in surprise and pleasure, then melted into the heat of Aziraphale’s lips on his, soft and pliant, and his tongue flicking into his mouth and drawing a small, undignified sound out of him. _It’s been a year and four months since he turned around and kissed me out of the clear blue sky as we were leaving the Ritz, and I’m still not used to this. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. He's so--_ bloody-- _wonderful._

__

__

Aziraphale broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes, my darling Crowley!” before running his hands up around his shoulders and the back of his head, and pouring their mouths together once more. The demon whimpered and returned the kiss with every scrap of passion he possessed.

As they pulled apart, Aziraphale wiped tears from Crowley’s face with his thumb, smiling so widely that the demon thought his face might split from end to end. He closed his eyes and sighed in contentment.

“Wedding ring, I think. I already wear one ring; two will be nice but I don’t need three. Oh my darling, if you had any idea how long—but of course you do—would you put it on me just for today, though? As a sort of preview?”

Crowley’s grin split even wider somehow. He took the ring back and slipped it onto Aziraphale’s finger, then leaned in to kiss him again.

This time, as the kiss ended and Aziraphale steadied himself on the demon’s lapels, his head came up sharply in attention.

“Listen, sweetheart! Do you remember this one?”

The school choir was singing again, and this time Crowley recognized it as the last verse of the last movement of the Britten: “Deo Gracias.”

“Deo gracias! Deo gracias!  
Ne had the apple takè ben, the apple takè ben  
Ne haddè never our lady a ben hevenè queen.  
Blessed be the time that apple takè was,  
Therefore we moun singen.  
Singen, singen, singen!  
Deo gracias! Deo gracias! Deo gracias!”

“Oh. _Oh._ Yes, I most certainly do!” Crowley laughed. “Thanks me for tempting Eve and paving the way for Mary and Jesus. Bit of a leap, of course; a lot happened in between there—” he broke off with another huge grin. “But this one has always been my favorite movement of this piece.”

The angel snorted, standing and offering a hand to Crowley to do the same. Crowley’s heart accelerated to see the ring gleaming on that hand, and he took it and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. “Because you’re sort of mentioned in it, of course?” He linked his arm through the demon’s as they strolled away toward the car.

“Partially, yes. But also because—” he paused, but he’d already said so many sappy things today that one more couldn’t hurt; he shoved aside his embarrassment and pressed forward. “—if I hadn’t been tasked with tempting her with the apple, I wouldn’t have ever met you and we wouldn’t have all this." His sweeping gesture with his free hand encompassed street, school building, trees, and sky; the whole world. _To the world. To us._ "And without all this, I wouldn’t have ever fallen in love with you.”

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks, and Crowley found himself rooted to the spot by the breathtaking quantities of surprise and love that he could feel emanating from the angel. But all he did was smile at him again, then lean up to feather a kiss on Crowley’s cheek. “I remember you asking me in Eden if you thought I’d done the wrong thing and you’d done the right one. I still don’t know about me, but I’ve suspected for awhile now that you did the right thing after all, my love.”

Crowley slid his arm around the angel’s waist as they began walking again. “Aye. I suspect you’re right.”

**Author's Note:**

> I used to write fanfic all the time, but this is my first one in several years, and my first for this fandom. Hope you enjoyed it--feedback of any type is appreciated!


End file.
